


never a waste of time

by ShyAudacity



Series: Riverdale Prompt Fills [18]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: 1990s, Alice is only mentioned sorry, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Caring FP, FP is in love okay, I thought this would be longer, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Pre-Season/Series 01, Sick Character, Sick Fred, Sickfic, Young FP, i used one of julias ocs what a surprise, like massively in love, took me too long to write tbh, young fred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 04:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13403124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyAudacity/pseuds/ShyAudacity
Summary: Thinking quick, and not knowing what else to do, FP reached for his bag and dug out the water bottle that he always tried to keep with him. After holding it out, Fred takes the water bottle from FP and holds it against his neck, sighing a little.“… what the hell are you doing? You’re supposed to drink it.”“I’m hot.” Fred slurs.FP quirks a brow at him, it’s late October, so while it’s not exactly warm out it isn’t really cold either. He reaches out to hold the sides of Fred’s face.“Jesus, Freddie you’re burning up.”Fred groans a little after being touched, and FP realizes that this is not good.ORHere's that Sick!Fred fic that Julia asked for months ago.





	never a waste of time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jugheadjones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jugheadjones/gifts).



> I was listening to Sam Smith while I wrote this, so if FP seems extra gay that's why.
> 
> Unbeta'd and title from a Sam Smith song that I can't remember the title of.

It’s not uncommon for FP to be late to class. In fact, it happens so often that the secretary has started to write a tardy slip for him before he even arrives at school. He doesn’t mean to do it, it just happens. His mom moved out of town after the divorce, and his old man leaves for work before FP is even awake most mornings; it’s not a surprise that he tends to fall asleep again after his alarm has already gone off.

Today, on the other hand, he slept straight through first period. It’s probably a good thing too, seeing as he was half way to Chemistry when he found Fred Andrews on his knees in the middle of the hallway, having a coughing fit in front of the water fountain.

FP had jogged over to him, letting his book bag slide to the floor.

“Fred, you alright man?”

Fred shook his head minutely, still coughing into the crook of his arm.

Thinking quick, and not knowing what else to do, FP reached for his bag and dug out the water bottle that he always tried to keep with him. After holding it out, Fred takes the water bottle from FP and holds it against his neck, sighing a little.

“… what the hell are you doing? You’re supposed to drink it.”

“I’m hot.” Fred slurs.

FP quirks a brow at him, it’s late October, so while it’s not exactly warm out it isn’t really cold either. He reaches out to hold the sides of Fred’s face.

“Jesus, Freddie you’re burning up.”

Fred groans a little after being touched, and FP realizes that this is not good. What the hell is Fred even doing here when he’s this sick? Why didn’t he just stay home? Before he can stop himself, FP helps Fred to his feet, an arm slung around his waist and walking towards the exit.  

“What’re you doing?” Fred asks in his foggy state.

“I’m taking you home, dumbass,” FP says. “You can’t be at school like this, it’s not good for you.”

It’s a reflex, one that he’s not proud of. He’s always had the habit of calling his friends- the people he _likes_ and _trusts_ \- calling them names, even though he doesn’t mean it. It’s just something that he’s always done, didn’t realize that he’d been doing it until Alice called him out on it one day after he called her a bitch.

_Why do you always do that? Why do you always put us down? That’s not what friends do._

He hopes that Fred knows he doesn’t think he’s a dumbass; FP never means half of the awful things he says. Unless, of course, it’s directed at his old man, then he most definitely means it.

FP and Fred walk right past the front office; the secretaries don’t even look up at them. He half walks half carries Fred out to his truck, nearly falling more than once. Fred isn’t being much help right now, but FP kind of expected that with the way that Fred is panting like he’s run a marathon.

Fred presses his face against the cool window as FP drives them to his house. They’re favorite Huey Lewis and The News song comes on the radio, and he has to stop himself from singing along so that he doesn’t bother Fred in his half-awake state. He does, however, hum when his favorite line comes on: _I wonder, I wonder why you had to leave me this way, I’m sorry darling that I made you cry, cry._

He can’t explain why it’s his favorite, but it is. FP spares a glance at Fred for the fifth time in the three minutes they’ve been in the car, thinks about all the feelings he’s been having, mostly about Fred. He can’t explain it, but he just gets this warm feeling when he’s around, and not just because Fred gets sick _a lot_. Something about the way that Fred smiles makes FP feel like everything is right in the world even when life is crashing down around him.

 _I wouldn’t be upset if he said he wanted to spend_ more _time with me,_ FP thinks to himself. He starts to panic a little when Fred groans as they drive over a nasty pothole.

“Don’t worry,” He says with a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll be there soon, I promise.”

Sure enough, they pull up to the Jones resident less than a minute later, because it’s not like FP can take him home without Mr. Andrews making some scene about the whole thing. Just as well, FP knows his house is empty, he knows no one is going to ask why they’re home at nine thirty on a Tuesday morning.

FP gives him a piggy back inside after seeing how wrecked he is, and he’d rather not have Fred die from falling on his cement steps and giving a himself brain injury. He deposits Fred on the couch in the living room carefully, even if he isn’t totally sure that Fred knows where he is right now. FP goes into the kitchen, gets a glass of water and some Tylenol, trying to ignore how his heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest if Fred has another coughing fit.

Kneeling in front of his sick friend, he holds out the water and meds, rolls he eyes when Fred tries to refuse it.

“I’m just gonna puke if I take it.” He mumbles.

“C’mon, Freddie, humor me and take it, alright? I promise you’ll feel better…please?”

Fred glares at him with glazed over eyes, begrudgingly holding his hand out, knocks the pain killers then coughs like he’s just smoked an entire pack of cigarettes.

“You wanna watch a movie?” FP asks, Fred nods half-heartedly.

He falls asleep ten minutes into Field of Dreams, his head resting on FP’s knee, shaking from the fever like it’s all that he can manage. In all honesty, FP doesn’t even like this movie, always thought that baseball was boring, but he’s seen it four times now just because Fred loves it, and he can never seem to say no when it comes to him. FP spends the rest of the movie just watching him, pushing Fred’s sweaty hair away from his forehead.

At some point, he thinks to himself: _shit, Jones, you’re really in for it this time._

If anyone knew how he feels about Fred- if his _father_ found out- he’d be a dead man. He knows that for sure. FP’s has heard all the horror stories, the ones about kids getting kicked out of their families or even killed just because someone finds out they’re gay. It mortifies him so much that he’s already decided that he’s never going to tell anyone- at least not while he’s still in Riverdale.

He’s seen the way that the football team picked on Vick Mantle after they found the letter he’d written to his boyfriend. FP listened to them call him a faggot, called him a fairy and other things that he didn’t like to think about. As much as he wanted to, he could never bring himself to defend Vick, always to afraid that it would backfire and blow up in his face, that someone would figure out his dirty little secret.

An hour later, Fred groans in his sleep, then flies off the couch, stumbling and vaguely headed in the direction of the bathroom. He falls to his knees in front of the toilet a with a crack of his knees, retching loudly, his whole-body heaving. FP follows him, rubbing his back, not knowing how else to help.

“It’s alright,” He says quietly. “Just let it happen… it’ll pass soon.”

Once he’s done, Fred rests his head on his arms, looking over at FP with heavy eyelids, smiles a little for the first time all day. FP feels his throat close up at the sight.

“Thanks man,” He rasps. “I dunno what I’d do without you.”

FP’s heart skips a beat. What he says out loud is: “No problem, man.”

What he thinks to himself is: _Me too, Freddie… me too._

**Author's Note:**

> These two are most definitely in love, don't try and tell me otherwise. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment or a kudos so I know that it doesn't suck. You can find me on tumblr as archieandrewsprotectionsquad. Thanks again for reading, have a great day!


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